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A vivid and absorbing account of the jungle and its
denizens. The author observes the Big Cat after a big feast, as it
lazes and philosophizes by the water’s edge.
Rain the night before had
washed the sand away and imparted an unusual clarity to the stone
and vegetation. A black necked stork stood perfectly still in the
waters like the tussocks of grass in sharp detail. Framed by the
meditative trance of my mind, the jungle pool was transformed into a
zen rock garden in the early morning light.
Preternaturally alive to
danger, the stork with sudden flapping of wings lifted and sailed
away. Moments later, the tiger stepped out of the grass with
magnificent strides. It had more than a meal the night before,
feasting on a sambar stag and now it was headed for the water for a
drink and to escape the heat of the rising summer day.
The tiger came up to the
water’s edge, sat on all fours and slowly began too drink. It
paused every now and then to survey the scene but was completely
blind to the performance of the white-bellied drongo that danced
above the water a few feet away. Like a crazy dervish, this black
bird, the size of magpie, whirled above the pool snapping up
dragonflies and other insects. Tracing intricate patterns in the
air, the drongo nosedived occasionally in a stunning act to skim
the water surface. But the lord of the jungle was unmoved by such
powerful avionics of the drongo and continued to lap up the water.
Skirting the waters, a
varanus lizard crawled ponderously between the stone and grass by
the pool’s edge. Meanwhile, the tiger – now fully quenched,
stood still, taking note of the lizard, but only in passing. Unaware
of the master predator, this miniaturized descendant of the dinosaur
carried on its quest for food without interruption and disappeared
behind a rock.
Emerging from behind the
scarp, a black vulture made a recce flight over the waterhole while
the keen eyes of the tiger followed the scavenger that came and
landed on a stony ledge not far behind. Annoyed by an unwanted ugly
guest, the tiger turned to face the intruder and grimaced. Unaffected
by such hollow display of displeasure, the vulture remained
unflappably reserved and the tiger moved away to sit in the water,
by the pool’s edge.
In the murky greenish
waters, small frogs scampered about like little idiots in a ballet
for the insane. Sitting quietly doing nothing, the tiger was not
amused by the antics of our acrobats in this circus of jungle life.
On the other hand, the tiger seemed deeply reflective on matters of
self, his place in the ecosystem, wildlife conservation and the
nature of life on the planet.
But not for long can one
contemplate subjects so serious, especially after a massive meal. As
the day got hotter, the thoughts began to space out and the tiger
looked drowsy, on the verge of sleep. He hauled himself up from the
water to sprawl out under the shade of a tree by the grassy patch.
Ahhh. But sleep does not come so easily. Not when these flies are
such a nuisance and periodically the tiger swished his tail to ward
off the irritants.
Slowly the tiger slipped
into sleep, unmindful of the flies in the day long siesta. And, as
the tiger sank into a state of being truly empty and marvelous, a
separate world gradually came alive. First to descend on the scene
was the lapwing that went knocking about on a pair of tall legs,
apparently looking for nothing. A tree pie came next and perched on
the branch above the sleeping beauty. It was shortly joined by a pair
of blue jays that made a brief transit stop to see the comatosed
carnivore before resuming their courtship flight full of spectacular
barrel rolls, tail spins and somersaults.
The hours passed by
slowly and a sweet breeze blew even as the sun steadily climbed up.
In the shimmering heat, the stupor of sleep was complete as the tiger
rolled and lolled, with legs splayed out to let the winds an the body
while the mind roamed the wild spaces of its imagination –
sometimes drifting like a cloud, other times flowing like a stream.
And almost like a fantasy, the paradise flycatcher, that bewitching
fairy of the forest, flew into the frame like a mid-summer
afternoon’s dream. Oblivious of the breathtaking loveliness of
this plumed bird, the tiger slept breathing deep and heavy, lulled by
gentle westerlies.
But day dreams are often
broken by a sudden rush of reality. The croaking of a crow instantly
awoke the tiger. No thought – only action! Alert, with all its
senses tuned to the surrounding jungle the tiger jerked its head up
to see what the crow was advertising and, assured there was nothing
of consequence, turned on its back and was asleep once again.
But not for long. Dipping
down rapidly, the sun was losing its singe and the shadows of a late
afternoon began to lengthen into evening announced by the peacocks. A
covey of partridges were busily grubbing for seeds and insects under
the canopy of reeds very close to the cat that finally decided to
call it a day. Sitting up, the tiger yawned unabashedly inn the
company of babblers busy in a bush. At last the tiger got up and
stretched, to squeeze lethargy out of every bone and muscle and
without a moment’s pause or hesitation, strode out as
magnificently as it had arrived.
In the swiftly changing
evening, I was left alone with my thoughts that were now charged,
like the atmosphere, with a nervous energy of a forest preparing for
the night. The twilight air was rich with sounds. Deer belled out in
the distance. An all male band of monkeys raised a raucous alarm in
the valley ahead. There was rustling in the undergrowth. And, in the
dissolving light, the nightjar began its rhythmic chant.. chak-koo,
chak-koo, chak-koo, chak-koo.
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